The beginning steps of my ultimate goal would have my blog recognized by the true leader of America and a good portion of the Western world, Oprah Winfield. She would have one of her shows totally devoted to the wit and wisdom that I put forth on my blog when my muse strikes and my kids let me have the computer for longer than a few minutes. They both have Facebook pages and dear old dad has been bodily threaten over their need to tell their sixty jillion close personal friends what they are thinking. It’s gotten so bad my uppity crumb snatchers are even stealing the Chips Ahoy cookies as they update their statuses.
The next step as my fame grew would be a multi-million dollar contract with a publishing house to turn my various forms of posted pomposity into semi-intelligent stories that would climb the best selling charts all across the nation. Stephen King, Jimmy Buffett, and I would then pal around and make fun of Dean Koontz and his toupee that I swear he must have stolen from William Shatner. I understand the reason Koontz’s golden retrievers are so well behaved is that they are terrified of his toupee, which gives them commands in frequencies too high for humans to hear.
After that, I would tour the country signing autographs with a small entourage of say two-hundred. A staff of twenty would be devoted just to removing all the green colored peanut M&M’s from the candy bowls in my swanky suites and making my aluminum foil hats to protect my inspired ideas from evil leprechauns. By this time, politicians of all strips would be beating down my doors for me to show the least little approval of them and their policies. The price of my support would be their acceptance of wearing clown clothes, including those huge clown shoes, and clown makeup at all times while serving as elected officials. The second thing would be them voting ladies beach volleyball as the national spectators sport.
As the years continued to roll on, I would tire of this lifestyle and move to attain my final goal. I would purchase an old beach house that I have stayed at on the mainland side of Pawleys Island situated right on the marsh. It is there that I would retire doing my own impersonation of my hero Mickey Spillane and spend my days writing and without having to share the internet or the Chips Ahoy cookies with my kids. Oh yeah, I would spend some of my riches to house my army of cybernetic zombie chickens close by, you never know when we might have to repel an alien invasion.